As I stand on the precipice of another year gone and look back on the last year, I’m convinced 2015 will hence be remembered as a “banner year” in my life.

Our fourth son was born. We moved into our second home. I began Ph.D. studies. I started losing my hair (I’m still trying to discern what, if any, relation it has to doctoral work). After three years of slow, steady growth on Saturday nights, God opened the door for our church to meet on His Day. Theological questions of critical nature popped up, possibly forever altering certain convictions and ministerial trajectory. Suffering struck our church in a new way and brought a taste—not just a sense—of God’s sweet sovereignty.

It was a banner year indeed.

It was also a banner year for book reading. For the first time in my life, I crossed the two-century mark in reading, completing 207 books over the last 365 days.

When the Truth is Terrifying

In 2013, I read 156 books and last year I read 160. How, I’m asking myself, did I add some 47 books to this year’s “Completed Books List?” The simple answer would be to blame the increase on Ph.D. work, for over 50 of the books I read came from some Ph.D. seminar syllabus. As I’ve considered this landmark of sorts in the last week I’ve come to realize the real answer lies within my heart; I love reading books.

Such a statement begs for a derisive, “Duh!” “Of course, a person who reads 207 books in one year loves reading books,” you might say. To which I’d respond, “Did you see where I put the accent? It’s not that I love reading books, but that I love reading books.”

And for the first time in my life that truth terrifies me.

On Books and The Book

What clear and concerning to me is that 2015 revealed a trajectory in my soul, one that proves I tend to reach for man’s book than God’s book. By my calculations, I finished, at least, one book every forty-two hours this year. That means I read tens of thousands of man’s words every two days or so while only reading a few hundred of God’s words.

In years past I’ve been able to say with a clean conscience that my persistent reading of books catalyzed even higher reading of The Book. But this year was different (I’m still trying to discern exactly why this is so). I was too quick to put down The Book to read another book. I thus stand rebuked, first by my words.

In December 31, 2014’s post recounting 160 books read I wrote at the end:

Here’s what I do know: books build my soul in myriads of ways, but not as powerfully as The Book does. I think I held that perspective well this year, and I want to do so even more next year. My conviction then going into 2015 is going to be different than in years past. I really don’t care how many books I read as long as The Book receives my most ardent love and attention.

Tears well up when I reread those words, for The Book didn’t receive my most ardent attention.

Henry Martyn’s example also rebukes me this year. His practice of reading is surely most pious and wise. Do you know it?

Archibald Alexander recounts it in the middle of some sage counsel to the pastor’s study habits:

It has been said that everything a minister studies should have a reference to the word of God. Through whatever fields of science or of literature he may rove, he should come back with superior relish to the Bible. In the varied regions of philosophy and taste he is permitted to rove, but the Bible should be his richest banquet. Make it a rule always to prefer it. If at the hours of devotion you are strongly drawn toward some new and interesting publication, if you are tempted for this to omit the regular study of the Scriptures, regard it as a temptation, and resist it accordingly. You may recollect the resolution of the pious Henry Martyn. He would never allow himself to peruse a book one moment after he felt it gaining preference to the Bible. As long as he could turn to his Bible with a superior relish, so long he would continue reading, and no longer. Go thou and do likewise.

Relish for The Book decreased this year and preference for books increased.

A Fresh Resolve

I thus enter 2016 with fresh resolve and zeal to situate my soul in Scripture. I want holy Martyn’s model to be real in my life next year. Should the Lord tarry and grant me another 365 days, I hope to write a post on December 31, 2016, that announces something different than this one did.

Over 200 books in one year is a banner I thought I’d be proud to wave. But instead, I find myself eager to let the banner fall—and raise a more inspired one in its place.